Earlier this year, my dear long-distance best friend, R gave me a really great piece of advice for when I’m feeling a little down: keep a collection of inspiring quotes in your phone to read to perk you up.
Words are powerful – not just for writers like me, but for everyone.
When I’m outside of New York or when I talk to friends from home or another state, I almost always get asked: what’s it like to date in New York City?
It sucks. It’s terrible. I hate it.
Okay, I don’t (most of the time) and I still have hope (some of the time), but the truth of dating in Manhattan is something that took me a while to admit: being a single gal in this city isn’t easy. But when I first arrived in those black pumps with blind ambition about my career and my love life, I thought I’d be the exception. I thought moving here justified my bravery and my dedication to the city I love and I’d be rewarded with… well, love.
600 blog posts later, I think I’ve proven myself wrong.
The first rule of online dating is to keep your boobs off the internet. The second rule is to never, ever (EVER!) text too much before meeting your match in real life. And maybe don’t commit to dinner with someone you’ve never met offline, either. I learned the latter two lessons after going on what I consider one of the very worst dates in my life (the guy who cried was a bad one too. And the one that blatantly asked if I shaved my you-know-what 20 minutes into drinks—but more on those real winners later).
I connected with Jordan on OkCupid—and his first message to me was uncharacteristically charming. I can’t remember exactly what he said, but it was enough for me to click on his profile and go through the mental checklist I always use to determine if I want to respond or not:
If there’s anything that’s annoying to hear after years of flying solo, it’s that friend-of-a-friend who excitedly says, “OMG, I have the PERFECT person for you. He’s great. Can I set you up?”
I never know the right way to accept or decline the offer, so I usually just nod and smile, remember my Southern social graces and allow my number to be passed on. My mentality is usually, hey, if he makes a move, I’ll go out with him. It can’t hurt to add another one to the long list of could-be boyfriends, right? So when I heard from Luke only 12 hours after this friend-of-a-friend sang my praises, I was pleasantly surprised to learn—via text—that he was actually…kind of awesome?
I want to date a man that’s employed.
And not just at some job that gives him some paycheck for some amount that pays some bills he has to meet every month. I want him to love what he does, considering he’ll spend far more time at the office than he will with me for the next 40 years. All of the fancy titles and all of the fancy things can’t compare to being paid to do what you love every single day and feeling that sense of satisfaction that your purpose in life is being met. I want a guy who has a passion outside of me, something that fulfills him that he achieves and aims for, something that drives him to be a better man, a better person. I want a guy with a salary that allows him to travel and explore, believe and endure, follow his dreams and his whims, wherever they go, and hopefully, with me in tow.
I want to date a man that’s interested in interesting things.
I don’t have to like what he likes or do what he does but I sure do want to learn why it makes him happy. He doesn’t have to read what I want to read or laugh at the same point in the same movie that we both love. No, I don’t want a man that’s just like me, or just like anyone. I want someone who is his own person, with his own thoughts and his own certain set of certain somethings that make him not only intriguing, but incredible. I don’t want to be the center of his world or the only thing he thinks of, I just want him to give me a piece of his mind, along with most of his heart.
I want to date a man that wants to crawl into bed with me after a very, very long day in the city.
On those dreary, cold and grueling days where stress was high and traffic was thick, when subways didn’t arrive on time or come at all, when rain came without a weatherman to blame. I want a man who wants my key on his keychain and who gives me one in return, a guy that doesn’t need to announce his arrival because he’s always welcome in my apartment on that block on the Upper West Side. I want to meet a man who wants strings attached, who wants to learn all of the little things and the big things that make me into the me that’s me. I want to date a man who doesn’t have time for the games or the interest to play in between the lines and instead, wants a place to rest. A place to bury roots and watch them grow. With someone he loves. With the someone that’s me.
I want to date a man that’s easy to be around.
In this big city with all of it’s frustrations and fascinations, there has to be a man that doesn’t show up drunk on the first date. Or one that cries. Or one that doesn’t mysteriously disappear after the third date. Or the fifth. A guy that doesn’t place himself before everyone, ensuring his needs are met before he considers anyone. I want to date a man who opens doors in stores, who gives up his seat on the subway, who says his p’s and q’s and can hold a conversation with my dad over beer and fishing poles. I want a guy that wants to hit the East Village for drinks and dancing on Saturday, with sloppy kissing in between spots, and wake up on Sunday to read The Times and drink coffee in Central Park. I want an easy, loving feeling that’s so damn hard to find in this anything-but-easy city.
I want to date a man… who wants to date me.
It’s the simplest truth that I often forget: what I’m most looking for is a little thing called chemistry. I like him, he likes me, we meet, we kiss, we date – and that’s it. That’s all it really takes – one moment, one (or three) drinks, one secluded embrace under a street lamp in the West Village, one tiny little brush of hands, one shared smile and all of that hard work, all of those annoying, delirious experiences, seem distant and unimportant. While so many other things do matter and should matter when finding your match, the most important qualification is finding someone who you can be on the same page with, time and time again, no matter how many twists and turns your life takes.
It’s not too much to ask to date a man you love that loves you just as much back. It’s asking too little to settle for anything less than that man.
This Valentine’s Day, write a self-love letter to yourself and it’ll be published (anonymous or not) on Confessions of a Love Addict! And you enter yourself to win a prize! Learn more here. Submit here.
loveaddictnyc.com 